


Salmon

by Dream_Wreaver



Series: Hell's Studio AU [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hell's Studio AU, allusions to drunken behavior, slight romance but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 06:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11202258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/Dream_Wreaver
Summary: Based off of Doodledrawsthings from Tumblr's Hell's Studio AU and the idea that different colored inks evoke different drunken emotions from the toons. Alice wakes up not being able to remember what color ink she drank, or what that ink may have caused her to do





	Salmon

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been on a Bendy kick lately and doodledrawsthings Hell’s Studio AU, specifically their head cannon involving colored inks seemed like something fun to explore, especially the mixing of colors. For all intents and purposes of this story: Salmon is (to me) a pinkish-orange color made from mixing the colors pink and yellow together. And if this looks familiar to anyone on here it's because I first posted this on my tumblr of the same name but without the underscore. Enjoy!

Sunlight creeped in through slats in the blinds on her window, somewhat blinding her as she blinked blearily. Morning, it was morning. What had happened last night? Oh, right, she’d gone drinking. What color had it been? Usually she didn’t drink enough  not remember anything that happened, that was Bendy, but she’d either found a really old bottle or had just kept drinking. The thing about being an ink creature was that ink to them was sort of like what water was to humans. The basis for life and something they needed constantly as they were constantly losing it. Water came in a variety of things for humans, not so much for ink creatures though. For some reason the rules of what ink was to them depended on the age of said ink. Fresh out of the ink machine it had the consistency and assumed taste of what coffee was for humans. Room temperature ink that had been made that day was kind of flavorless, much like how she imagined water was. Of course, this only applied to black ink. Colored (and black) inks, especially ones that had been sitting around for a while, got the consistency of human alcohol. And each separate color did different things to them.

Blue, for instance, made you a sad drunk. Yellow made you a sappy-happy one, purple made you paranoid, green made you disgusted with everyone and everything, red made you rage. And pink, Alice didn’t know why any of them drank pink. When they got drunk off pink ink it made them a little… what was the word? Stupid, not that they didn’t get stupid drunk off the other colors, but pink could really mess up the dynamic they’d built over the last thirty years. Oh wait, now she remembered, pink was sweet and fruity and it was easy to drink too much of it without even realizing.

Aged black ink was what she imagined that fine wine that Henry liked was like. Something to be savored, unless you were Bendy in one of his moods. Alice slid out of her bed, hoping she wasn’t so hungover she started leaving ink trails everywhere. Though it had become second nature now, part of what held them together wasn’t just the satanic magic and ink, but their own consciousness. Meaning, if they fell apart emotionally or mentally, their forms would follow suit. A foot hit the floor, she picked it up, no slip, no print, no tension of an unwanted ink trail, Alice breathed a sigh of relief.

She remembered one time Bendy had gotten so blasted he fell asleep as a puddle on the floor by his bed, and woke up the next morning stuck halfway between his debut and current design: one eye old-school, one normal, his bow tie half-fluffy, half-droopy, running around with his shirt and suspenders but no pants. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to look in the mirror before rushing off to work and no one had told him until halfway through the day, afraid to spoil the joke. _That_ had been funny, but then it was always funny when it was someone else; doubly so if that someone was the workaholic Bendy. Not that she didn’t love him, she did, the same way she loved Boris: a love borne from time and effort on everyone’s parts, coupled with the knowledge that they were the only ones who would truly understand each other, surrounded by humans as they were.

However, the last thing Alice wanted was anything ruined by an ink-induced stupor. She sighed, she didn’t even want to look in the mirror right now, too afraid of what color stains might remain and hint to her what she might have done that she didn’t remember. She smoothed back her hair, smoothed down her dress, and headed out.

For some reason, her room had been built next to the animation room. She didn’t mind it, but that was often where Bendy could be heard criticizing the animators when they –even if through no fault of their own- went off model. She supposed she understood, as Bendy didn’t like when he was portrayed inaccurately and she wouldn’t either, but it rarely made her room the sanctuary it was supposed to be. Boris’ room was down by the music department: he and Sammy were once almost always found riffing together. And Bendy, Bendy still slept in the bottom drawer of that dresser in Joey’s old office. Well, he rarely used it for anything but sleep, sometimes he didn’t even do that, she supposed he saw why he didn’t want a room of his own.

Alice passed by the open door where animators were hard at work storyboarding, doing layout, coloring to check designs. What was missing, however, was the typical shouts of Bendy freaking out over the tiniest mistake. Alice scoffed, perfectionist. But he wasn’t yelling at everyone, had he been drinking with her? No, that couldn’t be it, even hungover Bendy was still as blunt and judgmental as ever, even more so because that’s how hungover people were. And yet today, Alice peered in, he was still there but leaning back in his chair in an almost relaxed, cavalier manner. One of the animators closest to the door spotted her.

“G’morning Miss Alice,” they greeted. That alerted the whole room and heads everywhere turned to look her way. All except Bendy, who was looking over some papers, but he raised a hand in her direction.

“Morning everybody,” she greeted. Odd, the air she was usually met with when she came in here was one of stress, thanks in no small –pun may or may not intended- part to her coworker and friend. Today it was relaxed, almost breezy and that was almost unnerving.

Oh well, she shrugged, things would return to normal eventually. Hmm, she wondered what Bendy was looking at so intently. As she approached she saw him call another animator, likely the one who had him looking over their work for approval, over.

“Looks pretty good,” that made her stop, Bendy rarely complimented _anyone_ , “But fix the elbow here, and the foot here and you should be good to go.”

The poor sap, a young one by the looks of it, had stood quaking in the fear of Bendy’s infamous criticism but a look of relief so great swept over their face it was impossible to hide, “Yes Mister Bendy Sir!” they saluted, grabbing the papers and heading back to their board while another took their place.

Okay, now Alice knew something was definitely up. Bendy never instructed like that, belittled and insulted, certainly, but never with such a gentle hand. Hands on her hips she determined she’d have to shake him out of whatever had him acting this way. But as she made her way to his chair she heard the distinct sound of giggles and snickers. Oh great, something had gotten messed up or –much like Bendy had that one time- she had woken up stuck between designs. But regardless Bendy needed to snap back to himself before everyone got too used to this.

She tapped him on the shoulder, “Bendy,” she said, “We need to talk,”

“What is it Angel-face,” ah yes, that _ever_ so beloved nickname, which she hated and he knew it.

But her retort died as he turned to look at her and she saw that all over his face were pinkish- orange kiss marks. Not that the kiss marks in and of themselves were strange, she’d kissed him before for the sake of the show and her lips always left a mark which he would promptly rub off until it smeared. But the fact that they were still there and in-color. When they were drunk they turned the color of whatever ink they drank, but sobering up returned them to normal, why had the kiss marks stayed? Did Bendy not even notice them? Or were they what was causing his new lackadaisical attitude. And wait a minute, she was the only one out of the three of them that wore lipstick, which meant… oh no.

She ran out of there, needing to find a mirror. Oh gods, she was freaking out and she could feel herself melting a little as a result. Stop, take a deep breath, calm down, try to remember what happened last night. In that order, nothing else. A few breaths had her form solidifying again and she found a mirror. Thankfully, she was on current model, but what was perhaps worse was the fact that her lips were still that same color as the marks all over Bendy’s face. Dear demons, what had she done? What had happened last night?

Bendy had been drinking, with one of the older animators –a veteran really- playing bartender. She had gone trying to stop him, knowing he would hate himself in the morning for it, but had ended up drinking as well. He’d been sipping an aged blue, she remembered that, and she’d recommended he switch his colors before he ended up all sad and mopey. The animator had asked what she’d have and she’d said something happy and light, ordering an aged black for Bendy after taking away his blue. The animator had presented her with a color she’d never seen before, calling it salmon. She’d taken a sip, it had tasted good. Too good. Sweet, with a hint of sour as an after note. Alice licked her lips, yep still tasted like it. How many had she had? How quickly had she taken them?

There was another flash of memory. Bendy was playing the nearby piano, and she’d been sitting on top of it, singing. Swing time to jazz to heartfelt ballads, they knew them all. She’d really gotten into the act, so had he. She remembered, it was a love song: she’d rolled over so that she was on her stomach facing her pianist. He was smiling a big dopey grin at her, as drunk as she was though he looked fairly normal. They’d been laughing, even as the character of the song had her reaching out and caressing his cheek.

_Heavy lidded, her eyes fluttered until they were at half-mast. She couldn’t stop giggling. Bendy was now playing nothing but discordant notes on the piano, which was making her laugh harder. She lay there, propped up by her elbows just staring at him, and him at her. had the barkeep left for the night? It seemed so quiet, just the two of them. Were they ever alone? It didn’t seem like it, felt like there was always a third-party there, likely to keep them from killing each other. But Bendy was such a great guy, for all his flaws._

_Alice giggled again, “Ben-hic-dy,” she purred, brushing her thumb over his cheek. Her eyes fluttered._

_For a moment, he looked nervous, but then that glazed, happy, almost hungry look, lit in his eyes. Her hand shifted and she sat up, picking his head up right off his body. He was designed with it floating, she knew it didn’t hurt. Literally cradling his head in her hands she raised him up to eye level, the rest of his body scrambled in pursuit…_

“Oh my gods!” she exclaimed, feeling the grayish blush light her cheeks as she remembered what followed. How could she have? Did Bendy remember? If he did she would never live it down! Had he told anyone else? Had that animator? Had that animator been there? Seen everything?

That was it, she might as well waltz into a church right now and end it. Drink a barrel of acetone. Thirty years, thirty years of a purely platonic relationship down the drain because of some stupid drunken decision.

“Alice,” it was Bendy the last person she wanted to talk to right now, “Alice what’sa matter? You ran outta there like the devil himself was on your heels.”

“Weren’t you?” she retorted, looking away as she tried to keep calm.

“I was, but I’m just your regular old demon, not the big guy himself.”

“Thank small mercies for that,” she sighed, “I- look Bendy, I’m sorry.”

“Whaddya got to be sorry for?”

“Last night, I mean, you remember or else you wouldn’t have been acting so strange earlier. I, I wasn’t myself. I mean, you and I, we were only ever a thing in the cartoons. I don’t know why I-”

“Alice,” he cut in, “look at me.”

She did and saw that, much to her relief, the kiss marks were gone, “Save yer apologies, y’ain’t got nothin’ to say sorry for. We were drunk, you were drunk off something way worse than I was.”

“Salmon?”

“Y’know what colors make salmon?” she shook her head, “That particular bottle was a blend of pink and yellow.”

Pink and, oh, of course. No wonder.

“But I still-”

“And how many times have I flirted with you while pink-led outta my mind?”

“I-” she raised a finger to argue, “Point taken,”

“Look, you an’ me,” he made a dismissive sound and gesture, “Water under the bridge, we’re more than what humans like to put labels on. Same goes fer me an Boris. Same goes for Boris an you. ‘Sides, I didn’t mind,” he shrugged, “Y’ain’t half bad.”

Alice chuckled, “I could say the same for you.” She sighed again, this time a sound of relief, “I think we should lay off the Salmon, and any other mixed inks, from now on.”

“Agreed.”

A beat of silence followed and she said, “Thanks Bendy,”

“Anytime,” he put a hand on her shoulder, able to reach it because she’d sat down trying to hold herself together, “Though for what it’s worth,” he drawled, causing her to look at him suspiciously, “You kiss like no angel.”

Her cheeks flushed gray with embarrassment and anger as she rose. Bendy, sensing the impending danger, turned and hightailed it out of there. echoing throughout the corridor of Joey Drew studios that that was Bendy’s devilish laughter coupled with Alice’s enraged cry of “Bendy!” and the clack of footsteps and heels as she chased him down.

**Author's Note:**

> And I’m slightly sorry if it came off as BendAlice fluff, I tried to keep it as platonic as possible, I don’t know if I succeeded. But a relationship more intimate than lovers, built by years of being together and spending time together was how Doodles made it appear to me, and I just wanted to have some fun with mixed ink drinks. Hope it was fun, and please leave a review if you liked it.


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